Authors: Hilari Bell
As the days passed, Nevin forgave Jeriah for his disrespect—only one in three sentences was an insult, instead of all of them. And Jeriah overcame his own anger enough to study Nevin’s methods for handling the old man. Nevin never actively thwarted the Hierarch, he simply distracted or confused him until the ruler was willing to do what was needed. When Nevin wanted to get something out of the Hierarch’s hands, he gave him something else and waited until he became involved with it before taking the first object away.
Jeriah, whose pity was often laced with impatience, found Nevin’s unfailing gentleness rather shaming—but it didn’t make him like the arrogant knight any better.
When Nevin served the Hierarch, Jeriah could eat with his friends. From them, he learned that Nevin had been knighted not on the field of battle but for “service to the Sunlord.”
The other squires held him in contempt for that.
“With his father being who he is, all Nevin had to do to get knighted was pick out the right clothes,” Harell told him.
Jeriah, who knew why Nevin had been knighted, kept his mouth shut. But Nevin’s father really was a power in the Realm. All landholders were technically equal in the sight of the Gods and the government. Lord Brallorscourt’s influence came not only from his vast wealth, but also from his willingness to use that wealth in pursuit of political power. As Ranan put it, “Those who don’t owe him either money or political favor are afraid of him.”
Jeriah, whose father’s influence sprang from his neighbors’ respect for his integrity, was a little afraid of that kind of power too. He sometimes encountered Nevin’s father, dealing with the council or other lords, but Lord Brallorscourt ignored lowly creatures like squires and Jeriah was grateful for it.
He’d almost forgotten about his mother’s plans when Senna’s letter arrived. The first page was full of family
chatter. The tenants from the flooded village had been resettled, and his father was planning how to save more grain for seed, to take with them when they were forced to relocate. Jeriah was smiling over Tami’s campaign to trade her pony for a full-size horse when he turned the page and his blood froze.
Mother got some disappointing news from her old friend,
his sister wrote.
But she hasn’t given up. She hopes you’re doing well in your new post—says she’d love to hear some palace gossip again! So write if anything interesting happens there.
The rest of the letter consisted of local news, with a brief note at the end that Senna might be doing a bit of traveling herself soon—and what in the Dark One’s name did
that
mean? Jeriah thought he’d translated the rest of her hints correctly—Master Lazur had resisted whatever pressure his mother had brought to bear, and Jeriah was to stay at his post and report if the priest did anything unusual.
What was his mother up to? Confined to her own estate, surely she couldn’t do too much harm….
Jeriah shuddered. His mother could create world-shaking havoc confined to her bed!
He wrote back to Senna, filling his own letter with his recent promotion.
So don’t worry about me—I’m delighted with how things are going here. I’m sorry Mother’s old friend let her down, but maybe it’s for the best. Try to keep her from worrying about it. And you might consider staying home too. It’s too early in the year for good traveling weather.
He hoped that would be enough to rein in his mother’s scheme, whatever it was, but he doubted it.
As the Hierarch slowly became accustomed to Jeriah, Master Lazur began to pull Nevin into his own service. Although Nevin still turned up frequently to harass Jeriah—and, Jeriah admitted, to reassure the Hierarch with his familiar presence. Jeriah was heartily tired of introducing himself to the old man every morning.
Unless Master Zachiros drafted him to run errands, in the afternoon when the Hierarch slept Jeriah was granted free time. He came to like and respect the elderly secretary—though calling him a secretary was a joke. Master Zachiros exercised more power than any man in the Realm outside of the council. Except for Master Lazur, whose cadre held sway in the council.
Listening to the talk around him, Jeriah began to realize how tenuous the shadow government’s control was. Everyone disliked the relocation, even those who had fought the barbarians themselves and
knew
it was necessary. Most of the daily petitions had to do with landownership. Master Zachiros said that the moment it had been announced that the amount of land a person owned in the Realm would determine how much land they were granted in the northern wood, every man who owned more than a few acres started scheming to get more.
Jeriah couldn’t tell what Master Zachiros thought of
Master Lazur, though he was sure the secretary was aware of his power. But Jeriah wasn’t even certain if Master Zachiros’ absentmindedness was real or a clever act to fool those who watched the Hierarch. He only prayed that he would never have to deceive the foolish-looking “secretary.”
Jeriah also met Master Kerratis, the Hierarch’s personal healer priest, when he performed the Hierarch’s weekly examination. The man’s darting, birdlike gestures made the Hierarch uneasy, and Jeriah’s distaste for the healer intensified when Master Kerratis made it clear he found the Hierarch’s case hopeless and unworthy of his time. Even the fact that Nevin detested the finicky healer didn’t make Jeriah like him. He resolved to continue Nevin’s policy of never leaving the Hierarch alone with the man.
Between errands for Master Zachiros and his free afternoons, Jeriah was able to explore the parts of the palace where Master Goserian hadn’t sent him. He found no papers in the unlocked storeroom under the chorus steps behind the altar, and he spent several minutes staring wistfully at the small, locked storage compartment under the lowest steps. He also bluffed his way into the wine cellar, one level above the furnace room, from which yet another staircase led down to the palace vault. Because of that, several guards were posted there. They escorted Jeriah as he selected the Hierarch’s wine and prevented him from looking for the secret tunnel that was rumored to come out of the hill near the guards’ barracks.
Jeriah kept hoping that one of the Lesser Ones would contact him. He knew enough about the goblins now to be certain Cogswhallop had passed on his letter—surely the tinker would have relayed his request. But no one tried to get in touch with him.
In fact, the only one who seemed interested in his movements was Master Kerratis—Jeriah encountered the Hierarch’s healer in several odd places, and his eyes followed Jeriah during meals. But that might have been chance, for the palace was stuffed with people. The relocation, on top of the normal business of ruling the Realm, brought clerks, lawyers, and petitioners flooding in. It occurred to Jeriah that Master Lazur didn’t need to set anyone to watch him; there wasn’t a private corner anywhere! But Jeriah soon realized that although many people might see him, as long as he didn’t act suspicious, hardly anyone noticed him. In some ways the crowded conditions made his search easier than it would have been if the palace had been empty.
In spite of what Daroo said, Jeriah thought Master Lazur would keep his spell notes in the palace. They were unlikely to be on the second level, which held only the Hierarch’s rooms, Master Zachiros’ offices, and the petitions court. (Unless Master Lazur had access to a strongbox in one of the offices?) They certainly wouldn’t be in the temple. (Unless they were in the locked storage area under the chorus steps.) They wouldn’t be in anyone’s bedroom. (Unless the priest had asked someone to keep them for him.) They wouldn’t
be in any of the servants’ rooms, or workrooms, or public hallways. (Unless they were hidden inside some object.) It seemed likely they’d be hidden among other papers, and Jeriah thought the palace library was a more promising place than the public offices. (Unless Master Lazur had asked one of the clerks who worked in those offices to hide them for him.)
He tried to search the library himself, avoiding the librarians, since he didn’t dare tell them what he was looking for.
The amount of information in the vast tangle of shelves was staggering—and if it had been organized, Jeriah couldn’t figure out how. He was in the middle of a shelf of books that discussed the nature of magic, and experiments on it, when he came across a brief history of the Sunlord’s life before he was chosen. Jeriah suspected the long account of the old man’s exceptional holiness was mostly lies, but he discovered one shocking fact—the “old man” was only forty-four. Younger than Jeriah’s father. The fever must have changed him terribly.
But tragic as that was, it wasn’t what he was looking for. Jeriah finished that section, turned around a corner into the next aisle, and ran into a gray-gowned woman perched on one of the step stools that allowed people to reach the taller shelves. She squeaked and started to topple, and Jeriah steadied her.
“I’m so sorry,” he began, and then looked up to meet Mistress Koryn’s wide gaze. “What are you doing up on a
stool like that? Don’t you know better than to…I mean, with your…ah…” The awkwardness of their last meeting flooded back, and his voice trailed into silence.
“I can still climb a step stool.” Her voice was cool. “And what I’m doing is my job.”
She clearly hadn’t forgotten their last meeting either—and her job was working for Master Lazur. Jeriah released her and took a step back. She seemed secure enough.
“Then I’ll leave you to it, mistress.” He turned to go.
“They’re not here,” she said.
Embarrassing himself with this girl—again—was the last thing Jeriah wanted, but…
“What’s not here? I’m just looking for something for the Hierarch to read.”
“Master Lazur doesn’t keep any of his notes here,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken. “Particularly not the ones you’re looking for.”
Heat flooded Jeriah’s face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The notes about opening gates. I don’t know where they are, but I do know Master Lazur put them somewhere safe. Safe from you. And the library isn’t, so they won’t be here.”
Was there a hint of pity in those cool eyes? Jeriah, retreating in confusion, wasn’t sure.
The fact that Mistress Koryn claimed the notes weren’t there meant nothing. In fact, her denial might mean the notes were
more
likely to be in the library. Or not. Jeriah sighed.
Without the goblins’ assistance, a thorough search of the book-, scroll-, and paper-filled room would be impossible—particularly under the observant eyes of Master Lazur’s own clerk! He would simply have to wait for the goblins’ arrival.
He tried to be patient, but it was hard. More days went by, and the goblins didn’t come. Almost two months had passed since Tobin had gone into the Otherworld—he had roughly a week before the sickness began to affect his brother, and then…Master Lazur had said the illness could last for several weeks—but what if the sickness moved swiftly with Tobin? It might only take another week for him to die!
Jeriah had to get into the Otherworld with those spell notes now! But until the Lesser Ones and the goblins contacted him, there was nothing he could do but continue his search.
The other squires speculated about why he was so snappish, and also why he ignored the inviting glances his good looks won him from the young girls at court. Jeriah snapped at them.
One of his friends’ idle conversations about the barbarians reminded Jeriah of something he could offer the goblins—but even if he gained their services, where should he have them look? Start with the library, despite what Mistress Koryn had said. Then the locked temple storage? The public offices? The wine cellar, the food storage, under Master Goserian’s bed…Even if he found it, he couldn’t
what
?
What in the Dark One’s name was keeping Daroo? And where were the lesser magic users who were supposed to contact him?
More and more, Jeriah’s thoughts turned to Koryn—she might not know where the notes were, but he’d bet she could make a pretty good guess!
He was looking across the dining hall at her table, again, when Marof said, “Don’t bother. She’s not interested in anything but dusty notes.”
Marof was the most annoying of Jeriah’s friends—of course he’d be the one to notice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he couldn’t control the hot color rising in his face.
“I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been watching the nettle queen for the last week,” Marof said. “And I grant you, those eyes of hers—”
Jeriah didn’t want to listen to comments on Koryn’s eyes. Particularly from Marof, whose descriptions of a woman seldom focused on her face. “The nettle queen?”
“Prickly as nettles.” Marof grinned at him. “And cold as ice. Not even you could make that one bloom. And if you’ve tried…well, that certainly explains why your temper’s been so short!”
“Why does everyone always assume that all I want from a girl is—”
“Don’t let him get to you,” Ranan interposed hastily. “He only says that because he got nowhere. And small blame to
her, if she’s not feeling…Well, I’d give a girl who’s lost that much some time to recover before I made a move.”
“Lost what?” Jeriah asked. “I thought…I assumed she was born crippled. Was there an accident?”
If she’d just lost the use of that leg, no wonder she wasn’t interested in flirting!
Three sets of eyes turned to him.
“You don’t know?” Harell asked. “But it was the talk of…Oh, that’s right. You were in the north when she arrived.”
“What don’t I know?” Sometimes it was hard to keep his friends on track.
“Mistress Goserian is one of the Southlanders displaced by the barbarian surge,” Ranan told him. Then he grimaced. “‘Displaced’ is a euphemism. She lost her whole family in the attack. That’s why she came to live with her uncle. And that’s why flirting with her now is a really stupid—”
“She might have been ready to forget about grieving for a while,” Marof snarled. “Sometimes people who’ve been hurt need to laugh a bit, or—”
Jeriah wasn’t interested in Marof’s mistakes—he was too busy being appalled by his own.